


Farewell Wanderlust

by kindereggos101



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angry Jaskier | Dandelion, Attempted Murder, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Basically Sinbad, Betrayal, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon has PTSD, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Tries His Best, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pirate Jaskier | Dandelion, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Sea Monsters, Slow Burn, Song: Someone New (Hozier), Tags May Change, The Amazing Devil Lyrics, Title from a The Amazing Devil Song, kinda Jaksier is just angry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindereggos101/pseuds/kindereggos101
Summary: Geralt needs to get Ciri to Cintra, but going by land is too dangerous. While at sea, Geralt reunites with a face who he thought would be happy to see him, it was not.This was done because I just love how angry Joey Batey can sing sometimes, it's so beautiful. Also Pirates are just cool
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry but I can't guarantee this will be updated regularly, I'm starting college next month, so who knows this may be the only chapter you get :/ But I'll try, I promise! Also the song at the end is partially sung by Madeleine Hyland, but just pretend its Jaskier singing

Jaskier always had a fixation on Wishes and luck.

Geralt never understood why. Wishes was just a belief, nothing real. You can’t make a wish without real magic, can’t depend on it, nothing can fully follow through with it.

But for whatever reason, Jaskier always depended on it.

It started with dandelion seeds. Every time Jaskier would pass one on their travels, he would pluck it immediately, stuff it close to Geralts’ face.

“Make a wish!” He would cheer gladly, beaming up at the Witcher. And every time without fail, Geralt would ignore him, giving Roach a small kick to move away from the bard. Jaskier would just smile, and make a wish for himself.

Then came the ladybirds, and the same cycle would happen. Jaskier would carefully bring the bug over, holding it near Geralts face telling him to make a wish. Geralt would look at the spotted bug, and then into Jaskiers’ deep blue eyes, and the walk away. Jaskier would then make his own wish.

Sometimes when dusk began to fall, he would hear the bard quietly chanting to the first star he saw. When they sat around their campfire, he would sometimes see Jaskier scrunching up his face at the sky with his fingers crossed as a shooting star went by.

If he ever had any spare coin he’d walk his way to the village wishing well, mumble something to himself and then flipping the coin in with a hopeful smile. Any stray eyelash on Geralts’ face would be taken and held up to him with Jaskier yet again saying ‘make a wish’.

He never made a wish.

And He never asked Jaskier what his wish was.

He wish he did now.

It has been 6 years since Geralt saw the bard. He regrets ever yelling at him on that mountain, Jaskier didn’t cause his problems, he just happened to be there. Jaskier didn’t set out to be attacked by the Djinn, he didn’t tell Geralt to call upon The Law of Surprise. Jaskier was always there for him, no matter how much he insulted him, no matter how much he ignored him, glared at him, curse at him, Jaskier never strayed. And Geralt should’ve appreciated that.

Ciri was 15 now. She had grown elegantly, almost the spitting image of Pavetta. Geralt made sure there was no scratch to her face, her stomach never empty. He tried to treat her as if she was his real child. But he was glad when Yennefer would help out, but only during the winters in the safety of Kaer Morhen. He didn’t know how to control Ciris’ magic, he didn’t know how to help her when her body began to… Change.

But with her a few years shy of age to take the throne, Nilfgaard was desperate to find her, the only place Ciri was somewhat safe was on the sea. Nilfgaard did have a navy, however it was very small, granted not many armies had a navy to use.

The coast of Poviss was a place filled with crooks. Which worked for and against their favour. No one would dare go to any authority to report Geralt or Ciri in the area, but anyone could attack them.

“Geralt, what exactly _is_ your plan?” Ciri asked, as they approached the ports, glaring at Geralt.

“Find someone willing to sail us to Cintra, its’ too dangerous to walk there.”

“Geralt, I can protect myself, I don’t need to travel across the sea to get to Cintra!” Ciri whined, lolling her head back.

“I’m not taking any chances.” He stated, and made his way towards the port.

The area was filled with shouting, whether it was arguing, cheering on a bet or musician or merchants trying to attract attention, it was hard to hear the person you were next to. They managed to find an inn, no one turned an eye to Ciri when there was a Witcher there to goggle at.

“So you must be the famous White wolf, ye?” The bartender said with a wicked grin, several teeth missing or rotting, as Geralt approached the bar. He was balding, stubble on the sides of his head and a weak excuse of a beard “Sometime we ‘av a cap’in in ‘ere singin’ about you.” He spat into a mug, and then wiped it. Geralt wasn’t unfamiliar to Jaskiers’ songs being sung in pubs and inns across the continent, but he never expected them to reach this far. “So, what will it be lad? Wan’ a pint? Some ladies?” the man leant onto the bar, where Geralt could see he was half blind.

“A room.” He said flatly, not wanting Ciri to be in the bar any longer

“Ah, got yerself a lil’ birdie ‘ave ya? A lady desperate for a Witcher like you?” The man chortled, standing up properly. Geralt glared harshly at the man, shaking his head slightly. The man quirked a brow, but shrugged it off. “One room will cost ya twenty Bizants.” The man winked. Geralt looked to Ciri, silently asking if she wanted her own room, who nodded her head.

“Just two.” The mans’ face dropped into a pout, but held his hand out for the bizant. Geralt dropped them in, and snatched the two keys as soon as they were held out. 

That night, Geralt went out to hopefully find someone to transport them to Cintra. He tried to ask the bartender from earlier but he was almost as drunk as the other patrons.

Poviss was slightly quieter at night, key word slightly. Merchants had already locked away their goods, and most bets were gone and the musicians moved inside pubs and inns. There was still drunken yelling and arguing. A new addition was a new ship near the end of the port, the crew emptying the ship onto the port, and who he assumed was the captain at the top of the ramp. It looked to be a merchant ship, with the amount of cargo being taken off and the captains purple clothing.

Warily, Geralt approached when the crews’ numbers seem to be dwindling. The captain took on small glance, before removing his feathered hat and took a bow.

“Yer a Witcher ain’t ya? I have a dear friend of mine who is a big fan of your folk, taught me an’ the crew to respect you lot.” He placed his hat back on his head and stood straight “So, how can I be of service?”

“I need safe passage to Cintra,” Geralt shifted slightly. “For me and my companion.”

“Cintra, aye?” He rubbed his chin with a quirked brow. “Ye are aware the place now belongs to Nilfgaard, an’ they on the lookout for any Witchers?”

“Yes, I’m aware.” Geralt cast his eyes down for a second. “I was there.”

“A survivor aye…. You’re the White Wolf!” The man slammed his hands on the banister. “I can get ye to Cintra, no payment needed! Just need some assistance upon deck, you and ye chum.” Geralt almost sighed in relief. “Travel should take around two or ‘hree months, we set sail at dawn, tell ye mate.” Geralt nodded slowly, eyeing the man up and down. “Trust me Witcher, I ain’t looking to be on the other end of one of ye swords!” He said with a chuckle, his hands up in surrender. Geralt looked him up and down again, nodded, and then returned to the inn.

Geralt knocked onto Ciris’ door, waiting for her to say ‘come in’ before entering. She was sat upon her bed, cross legged, polishing a small dagger she kept inside a small stuffed lion, dirtied and withered. She had found it on the outskirts of a Nilfgaard Raided village. 

“Found a ship that is willing to sail us to Cintra,” Ciri looked at him, silently asking him to carry on. “Ship leaves at dawn, be ready by then.”

“And how do you know we can trust this?” Geralt didn’t know, but the fact that the man knew the title Jaskier had given him, who would only know if aquatinted with the man gave him hope.

“He knew not to cross me.”

Just before dawn broke, Geralt and Ciri were ready in front of the Merchants ship, who welcomed them with open arms, and brought them into the hold of the ship. He stopped them in the corner of the crews quarters, where a somewhat closed off area was, two hammocks already placed.

“Sorry it ain’t much, but it’s what we could in such short notice.” The captain rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Its fine, don’t worry!” Ciri smiled, waving it off.

"We’ll be setting off soon, food at midday and sun down, if yer late, no food for ya.” Ciri nodded, Geralt stayed silent. “An’ the names Borin. Ya ain’t me crew so no formalities of the sort needed. Now, Witcher I need ya to help my men for combat, they be… Weak, to put it nicely.” He grinned cheekily. “As for you,” He turned to Ciri, “Do whatever ya like.” The captain began to walk away with a content smile on his face.

“Witcher training isn’t for humans.” The captain stopped, looked at Geralt, and shrugged.

“Treat em like children.”

The captain was right. How his crew could even defend themselves in a fight was unbelievable. They had set off around an hour after they boarded, with the Captain dragging Geralt to the deck to train them. The crew was scrawny, some lean at best. They couldn’t even hold a sword right. Geralt just hoped that they weren’t attacked at any point.

They were a few days into their journey when one of the crew members was begged to sing for them. He was scrawny like the rest of them, with a bit of extra muscle, dirty blond hair and green eyes that were almost blue. A lute was shoved into his hands and he began to play as everyone ate.

“The fairer sex, they often call it.” His voice was somewhat raspy, not quite in tune to his lute. But it was by the end of Verse 1, did Geralt realise what song it was. “But the story this is, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss…”

The last song Geralt ever heard Jaskier sing, before he blamed him for problems caused by his own doing. His body tightened, his hands clenched around the small piece of bread in his and. He could then see those blue eyes. Those hurt blue eyes that held the fury of a raging storm, the sorrow of a rainy day, but kept contained behind its glass wall of tears as they turned away from the Witchers’.

He was glad he was sat near the door to the crew quarters as he slipped away.

“Geralt?” Ciri called from around the wooden wall, looking at him with confusion and concern. “Why did you leave?”

“It’s nothing, you can go back.” He was sat back in his hammock.

“It’s obviously nothing. Why did you leave when he started playing?” She leant against the wall close to Geralts hammock. “Spit it out.”

Geralt kept silent, his fingers playing with a loose piece of thread from his shirt.

“I used to be…” He sighed in discontent. “I used to be… Friends… with the man who wrote that song.” He mumbled. Ciri leant further towards him.

“What happened to him?”

“I said things I shouldn’t have. He wrote all the ballads about me, the one who helped me get more contracts…” The thread broke in his hands.

“What did you—“

She were interrupted by the ship coming to a sudden stop. The hammocks swung almost violently, their belongings tumbling across the floor. A few moments of looking around the quarters carefully, boots came bounding towards the door, and the captain swung it open.

“Geralt!” He cheered. “Come, ther’ someone I wanna introduce ya too!” He didn’t let the witch answer, just grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him through the galley up to the deck. There was another ship stopped next to Borins, but I was definitely no Merchant ship.

The hull was made of mahogany, blue and gold stripes painted around it, with ‘The Golden Lark’ in calligraphy on the side. With how luxurious the boat was, he would’ve guessed it was a navy ship, but the visible crew members threw that idea out. They were Pirates.

There was a young black woman on the Captains deck, her hand resting on her swords hilt, dreads draped over her shoulders. She was just an inch or two smaller than Geralt.

“Winnie, could ya get ya Cap’in please?” The woman rolled her eyes, but crossed over the plank of wood connecting the two ships, and into the Captains quarters. A moment later, a man wearing a large blue pirate hat came out, rimmed with gold and extravagant feathers on top, his coat matching, but a lack of feathers and instead lace on the underlining. Borin met the man halfway, pulling him into a tight hug.

“Good the see ya Jask!”

_Jask?..._

“I wan’ you to meet ma new friend---“

“Geralt…”

Geralt looked into the eyes of the other Captain. His muscles seized up.

“Jaskier…”

“Oh! Ya know each other?” Borin smiled, moving away from Jaskier, back onto his ship. Jaskier didn’t move, but his glare almost made Geralt feel 5 feet shorter.

“Geralt. Long time, no see.” His words seethed with venom, and Geralt couldn’t find the words to answer, and so gave a curt nod.

“Come join us for drinks, Jaskier! Ya must tell us about yer travels, bet you and Winnie hav’ a new song for us!” Borin clapped his shoulder, looking at him with a bright grin.

“I’d rather not go into the galley, Borin,” His eyes didn’t leave Geralts’. “Never know how suddenly someone wants you to leave…”

Geralt sat near the back of the deck, by the doorway to the hull, a mug of mead cradled close to his chest. Jaskier didn’t look like he’d aged a day. Still looking as young as ever like 6 years ago. He was much more tanned now. A scar placed on his right jaw, and two visible tattoos. One of a silhouette of a lark, with a compass star just above its head. One on his arms that showed some mountains, waves underneath them and the moon high above. There were a few piercings in his ears.

He had both crews captivated in his stories, some of his even getting excited when he would mention them in his tales. Ciri always had a soft spot to stories, sat near the two crews but close enough to Geralt where she would be protected

“Right, who wants a song?” His voice stood out among the others, still speaking as eloquently and as proper as ever. The crews cheered, some getting splashed with spilt mead. The boy who sang before handed him his lute. Jaskier sat upon a barrel, plucking at the strings gentle, and then adjusting them a bit. He took a deep breath, and began to sing.

“ _Go take this the wrong way, you knew who I was with every step that I ran to you_ …” His voice was still soft when he sang, his nimble fingers softly playing. “ _Only blue or black days, electing strange perfections is in any Stranger I choose_ …” The crew seemed enchanted by him, even Ciri was intrigued. “ _Would things be easier if there was a right way, Honey there is no right way_ ,” A smile built up onto his mouth. “ _And so I fall in love just a little ol’ little bit, every day with someone new_!” He stood up now, continuing to play, some of his crew singing a bit along at random intervals, as Jaskier tapped his feet and danced a long on his small stage. “ _I fall in love just a little ol’ little bit everyday…Love with every stranger, the stranger the better_!” That was when he and Geralts’ eyes met again, and continued like that until the song ended.

Jaskier didn’t play anymore songs after that. Saying his throat wasn’t used to singing yet, along with the alcohol.

Around 2 hours later, people began to leave to the quarters, rubbing their eyes as they slumped away. Geralt and Jaskier were then the last ones on deck, Ciri having patted his shoulder mumbling “Good night,” before also going to bed.

Jaskier picked his hat back up, draping his coat on his shoulders and leaving the lute by the captains’ door. Geralt bitten his lip playing with the hem of his shirt, and stepped up to Jaskier.

“Don’t.” Geralt stopped, just a few feet away from him.

“Jaskier, I just wanted to-“

“I said, don’t. If you’re trying to apologise, don’t bother. You’ve clearly stated how you feel about me.” He snarled slightly at the last sentence. He was about to leave again, but Geralt tried to grab at his wrist.

“Jask-“

“Fuck off, Geralt!” He yelled, whipping his head to face the Witcher. “You didn’t want to apologise six years ago, so why now?! I stayed at that inn for three weeks, waiting for you! Thinking that maybe you did regret it, but then I find out you had left as soon as you could! I was left a penniless bard, foolishly waiting for you! I even tried to go to places I knew you’d stay often, just to try and see you again! Until a year later a realised, everything was--” He poked his finger to Geralts chest. “Your fault! I didn’t do shit to cause your suffering, that was you! I never made you make that wish for that witch, I wasn’t the one that forced you to claim a child! I tried to help you through all of that, but no I get the sword pressed to my throat for no reason but you!”

Geralt stayed silent.

“I realised that--”

“Oh, well that makes it all better doesn’t it?” Jaskier threw his hands in the air. “It’s only been six years, eight months, two weeks and four days, but hey, who’s counting?” Geralt took a calming breath.

“I wanted to find you, I did. But I have Ciri now.”

“I hope the Gods will save her from you before she’s now blamed for everything…” Jaskier glared at the floor. “You seem fine without me, so let this be the last time we see each other, hm?” He shot his hand out for a hand shake.

“Do you want that?” He looked down at Jaskiers hand.

“What?”

“Do you want that?” Jaskier began to pull his hand back, subconsciously.

“Oh, I have a choice now?” Geralts’ frown deepened. “I’m a captain now, I can’t just abandon my crew now, not after just three years…” Jaskier shook his head. “Besides I doubt you’d want an annoying bard bothering the future queen on Cintra, would you?” Jaskier would’ve started walking towards his ship, if it wasn’t for the large explosion happening beside the ship.

The ship violently rocked side to side, toppling them both over. Geralt searched over the banister of the ship, and saw another Pirate ship nearing.

“Fuck-…”

“Wha’ is goin’ on?!” Borin came stumbling out of his quarters, and the two crews scurrying to deck, Winnie bounding onto the merchant ship to help Jaskier stand. That was when everyone noticed the other ship charging towards them.

“Everyone, ready your stations!” Geralt watched the crews scurry in a somewhat organised manner, under deck to the cannons, while other were left to raise the anchors or ready the sails, all bracing for an attack.

The ship was getting closer, splitting the ocean like a knife in flesh, the fastest Geralt had ever seen a ship. Borins’ ship began to move, along with The Golden Lark just behind it, but it was no match to the ship right on their tail.

Geralt then realised he never saw Ciri appear on deck. He dashed down the steps, towards where Ciri should be. He found her curled up in the corner, trembling in Geralts’ cloak.

“Ciri,” Her blood shot eyes snapped to his, her cheeks soaked in tears.

“Geralt, what’s going on?” Her voice trembled.

“There’s another ship coming, stay close to me, okay?” He helped her stand, fastening the cloak around her properly. She snatched up the small raggedy stuffed lion, holding it close to her chest. He snatched up his swords and shoved a few potions into his pockets, grabbing her hand and dashing back onto deck.

 _“FIRE!”_ Borin hollered, and the ship rocked again as a cannon hit the opposing ship that was now right next to them. It hand began to rain violently too, feeling like bullets on bare skin. They hit straight into the bow on the ship, water filling it up quickly. However the other ship fired at them as well, with 2 extra cannons. Ciri tumbled to his side, her sobbing becoming horrendous now.

“Geralt!” He turned to see Jaskier hanging over the side of his ship, and arm stretched out and the other holding a rope. “Pass me Ciri!” Geralt quickly rushed her over. Ciri looked down the gap between the ships and shook her head. “Trust me Ciri, You’ll be safer on this side. Just give me your hand.”

She bit her lip and nodded, Geralt helped her onto the banister and steadied her. Jaskier was half way over his ship, but he still wasn’t close enough for Ciri to grab. She looked into his deep blue eyes, filled with fear.

“You’re going to have to jump. I’ll catch you, I promise!” There was a crack on lightning. Ciri squeezed Geralts’ hand, snapped her eyes shut, and leapt towards Jaskier. Geralt held his breath. Jaskier manged to wrap his arm around her just in time, as the ship was hit with another load of cannons. Jaskier pulled her onto deck, giving her a once over before looking over to Geralt.

“You too!” Geralt was about to jump across, but more cannons hit the ship, knocking him off his feet.

“ _Geralt_!” He heard Ciri screech before he managed to grab the side of the ship, dangling above the quaking waters. He felt a cold hand grab his wrists, and a:

“I’ve got you.” He manged to haul himself over onto deck, Jaskier holding his shoulders.

He looked over to Borins ship, just as the opposing crew jumped aboard. Swords drawn and torches pointed towards the sails, which caught alight. The cannon fire was speeding up, some now bursting out of the decking, some hitting the sails.

Borin was fighting two pirates at once, obviously struggling. His scrawny crew stood no chance, especially compared to Jaskiers crew that stayed aboard The Golden Lark, Waiting for Jaskiers’ orders.

“Geralt take Ciri to my quarters. Everyone else, defend the ship. Winnie, Cookie, join me on Borins’ ship!” He pulled out his cutlass, Winnie and a tall Muscular man too, joining at his side. Ciri was dragging Geralt to cover as Jaskier and the other two swung across to Borins’ ship.

It was quieter in Jaskiers quarters, Geralt held Ciri to his chest, slumped on the floor by the wall farthest away from the action. He covered her ears as she trembled in his arms, flinching whenever the ship was jostled.

It carried on like that for a while, not sign of the combat slowing down. From what he could tell, The Golden Lark took no damage yet, shielded by Borins’ ship.

That was, until a massive **_BANG_**.

The windows shattered. Everything came off their shelves. Splinters of wood came flying through where glass once was. Geralt quickly covered Ciri with his body, glass cutting into his skin. There was a moment of silence before the yelling began, a sudden flow of footsteps, and the ships speed increasing.

The door slammed open. Ciri trembled in his grasp, as he reached for one of his swords.

It was Winnie who came stumbling in, Cookie next to her, and in the middle Jaskier clinging to their shoulders. Blood was trailing behind them.

He was thrown onto his bed, crying out in pain. Winnie rushed out the room, Cookie stayed trying to comfort his Captain, brushing and chucking pieces of wood and glass off the bed.

“Jaskier?...” Ciri mumbled from Geralts’ arms. She pulled herself out, noticing the blood, and then rushing to Jaskier on the bed. “Jaskier are you okay?!”

“Oh thank fuck you’re okay…” Jaskier mumbled, his hand pressed to his side, his head unable to lift itself.

Winnie came bounding back in, a bucket of water and bandages in her arms, dumping them on the bed before rushing back out. Cookie began to wash at Jaskiers sides, Ciri holding onto his hand tightly, watching his eyes for any hint of lifelessness.

“I’ll be fine, Starling… Just a scratch-” He winced and seized up as Cookie applied more pressure to his wound. Geralt was standing now, trying to peak over Ciris’ shoulder to see Jaskier, his chest tightening at the sight of blood spilling from his former bard. A moment later, Cookie pulled away, Jaskier now bandaged up, and helped him to sit up.

“Do you need anything?” She asked timidly.

“I should be asking you that, dear… I can’t imagine you’ve had a pleasant time.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I’m fine, don’t worry, just a bit shaken.” Jaskier smiled softly, then looked behind her, seeing Geralt lurking in the corner, and gasped.

“Fuck, Geralt, your arms!” The Witcher looked down at them, pieces of glass and wood sticking out of the limp, blood trailing down and dripping onto the floor. Cookie came over, to him. He was quite an intimidating height, probably around 7.5ft tall. He coaxed him towards the bed, and Geralt followed. Jaskier tried to pull out the chunks from his arms, a soaked piece of cloth dabbing at the uncovered wound.

“I’ll be okay.”

“I can never believe you saying that after our last encounter with a griffin.”

Geralt remembered that. He had been wounded in the fight, Jaskier left at the camp. The griffin has almost severed him in half, leaving him too weak to get back to camp. It was a few hours later that Jaskier found him in a panic, trying to stand against a tree, holding his own organs in his sliced hands. He had said he’d be fine, but Jaskier had to carry him on Roach to the nearest healer, spent all of his money and took jobs to pay for his treatment. They were there for 2 months. Jaskier begged him with tears in his eyes to never take a griffin contract again, he didn’t. The bard was plagued with nightmares for months.

“…This time I will be.” Jaskier wrapped bandages around each limb, securing them tightly.

“Are you hurt?” The captain asked Ciri, who shook her head.

“Geralt kept me safe.” She smiled.

“That’s a relief…”

“What’s happened?” Geralt asked after a short moment of silence. Jaskier hung his head.

“Borins’ ship was bombed, not many survived. He did, thank god. There’s Elliot, Ulric, Jarin, Zayne and Quinn… That’s it.” 6 Out of 26 survived the attack. “We’ve manged to get away from whoever it was, I didn’t get to see his face before he well,” He pointed to his side. “Borin did quite a lot of damage, so hopefully we won’t be followed.” He leant back onto bed. “You two can stay in here, I need to get the survivors their bunks.” Cookie helped him to stand, with a wince.

“Are you sure you should be walking?” It was Cookie who spoke. His voiced was as deep as Geralts, but not as gruff.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” He kissed the mans’ nose, despite being on his tip toes the man had to duck his head for him. Geralts’ heart clenched for a moment. “Goodnight, you two.”

And like that, Geralt watched him walk out the room, hand with hand with Cookie.

Ciri was already making herself comfortable in Jaskiers bed, thankfully there was and over sheet that Jaskier bled on, that Geralt pulled away from her face. He then turned to where they were huddled up in the corner, and picked up the abandoned Lion, brushed off the bits of glass and wood, and placed it by Ciri, who was already beginning to sleep. She sleepily reached a hand out and drug the lion close to her, squinting her eyes up at the Witcher.

“Goodnight, Geralt.”

“Good night…” She fell asleep immediately. He shuffled in next to her as quietly as he could, and stared up at the ceiling, where he noticed small carvings in the wood. They looked like constellations, a map off them.

_It was one of the more mild nights, the two of them bundled close to the burning fire, Jaskier silently, writing in his notebook, and small smile on his face. Geralt looked at him as he silently ate, trying to read what the bard was writing, but the amount of loops and flicks in his writing made it hard to read._

_Jaskier lifted his head, eyes watching the smoke reach the sky, and he gasped, still grinning._

_“Look at the stars…” Geralt did so. They were brighter this night, maybe it was because of there were no villages for miles, no chance of their light outshining the stars. Or maybe it was just by coincidence. Suddenly Jaskier jumped to his feet, rummaging in his saddle bag near Roach. He pulled out a small blue hardcover book, and returned to his place by the fire. He flickered through it, sometimes looking up at the sky._

_“A-ha!” He pointed down into his book, and looked back up at the sky. “See those two really bright stars?” He pointed at two stars, close together. “Those are_ _Sadalmelik and Sadalsuud. They’re a part of the constellation, Aquarius!” He showed Geralt the page in his book, showing a constellation that had 3 branches of stars. “Those two are the brightest, and apparently the luckiest.”_

_It was his fixation on wishes and luck again._

_“And those two…” He pointed to another set of constellations. “Is Cassiopeia and Cepheus, two lovers frozen in the stars…” He closed the book, and held it to their chest. “A woman vain enough that her Daughter almost died, and her husband who never stopped loving her.”_

_“…Why are they in the stars?...” Geralt silently asked._

_“They were killed at their daughters’ wedding, so the gods placed them in the sky so they could continue loving each other.”_

It was the same set of constellations, with a few new ones. _Maybe he could ask him about what they were?_ That was if Jaskier actually wanted to talk to him.

Geralt laid there for hours, but he couldn’t sleep. HE quietly slipped out of the bed, watching where he stepped to not break anymore glass and wake the young girl. He leant his ear against the door, and heard no one talking nor walking. He creaked the door open, thankfully it didn’t squeak.

There was in fact no one on deck. The wood floor was covered in ask and singed, a few trails of blood, most prominently Jaskiers. Parts of the railing had been hacked away, from blast damaged, swords or axes.

He made his way over to the broken railing, and peaked over in the direction of where the fight occurred. They must have travelled far enough, because he saw no trace of the remains of Borins’ ship, and Jaskier was right, the other ship wasn’t following them.

He was only there for another second before he heard the soft strums of a lute. He looked around, but saw no one on deck, and then the singing joined.

“ _You were raised by wolves and voices. Every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed, they said it all comes down to you_ …” He looked towards the quarterdeck, and mutely stepped towards it, the singing getting slightly louder.

“ _You’re the daughter, of sightless watching stones, you watch the stars hurl all their fundaments. In wonderment, at you and yours forever asking more_.” The voice was becoming angrier, and the strumming louder. It was definitely Jaskiers’ voice.

“ _You are the space that’s in between every page, every chord and every screen. You are the driftwood and the rift, you’re the words I promise I don’t mean_.” It wasn’t as if he was singing to someone, more like when he was practicing his verses on the path behind Roach. Geralt continued to creep towards the stairs, careful not to make a sound that would startle him as Jaskier kept singing. For a moment he stopped strumming, and picked up again after:

“ _Remember me I ask, remember me I sing. Give me back my heart, you wingless thing_.” Then the floor boards creaked. He heard the captain gasp, and then he saw him stand from behind the steering wheel.

“Oh, it’s you.” His shoulders relaxed. The Witcher stood awkwardly, thankfully close enough to the door that it looked as though he just left the room. “So, what?” the Pirate moved to lean against the railing, head in hand and looking bored. “Can’t sleep? I can tell you now, you won’t be finding and Djinn out here.” He walked down the steps, a Lute in hand. He stopped at the base of the steps. “How is she?”

“Asleep. Seems okay.”

“Good, that’s good…” They fell into an awkward silence, and then both tried to speak.

“Wha—”

“Jask—”

“You first.” Jaskier gestured to him. Geralt took a small breath.

“How did you end up here? As a Pirate captain?” Jaskier sighed, turning to the damaged railing, and sat upon it.

“Should’ve expected this…” He combed and hand through his hair. “Being a bard to possibly the most famous Witcher, not many safe areas to be when you’re no longer with him. Especially when Nilfgaard is looking for a wolfs’ head for their mantel piece. I was staying in a small coastal village, not far off Oxenfurt really. Nilfgaard soldiers were rumoured to be in the area but I didn’t really believe it, not until someone ratted me out for being your bard.” Jaskier shifted uncomfortably. “I was chased by soldiers to a cliff side, had to be a hundred feet at the least. I only had two options. Give myself over and hope for a painless death at their hands. Or jump on my own accord…” He rubbed at the back of his neck, looking out to the horizon.

“I somehow survived, obviously, found by a fisherman, he brought me to shore and asked how I got there. Told him, luckily he didn’t rat me out, as far as I know, and said he was heading to Poviss and could take me there himself, keep me hidden from any soldiers. Got there, and I helped him out with fishing. One day, he fell ill, so I went out alone. My little boat was spotted by pirates.” He swung his legs round onto the banister too, leaning against the quarterdeck. “Got captured, was forced to sing for them, but eventually they warmed up to me. I started helping out with their appearances. Pirates are very vain, you know.”

_You fit right in_ , Geralt thought.

“Eventually, I basically became a part of the crew, helping them with skin and hair routines, patching up clothing, singing for them. I was taught to sword fight, fire the cannons, I helped read their maps, Captain Ludwig wasn’t exactly bright.” He chortled to himself, staring fondly at the sea. Then his smile dropped, hunching forward. “However there… There was another ship, attacked us of course and he… He didn’t make it.” He began to play with his fingers nervously. “His first mate survived, for a few weeks… He passed from his injuries, a few weeks later…” He took a deep breath, and leaned back again. “We had a vote for who should be captain. I voted for Winnie or Cookie, but… Everyone voted for me.” His smile returned again. “And, here I am, Captain of the Golden Lark.” He turned to look at Geralt, with those piercing blue eyes.

“…I’m sorry Jaskier. For not being there to protect you.” Geralts’ hand twitched at his side. Jaskier just shrugged, slipping off the railing and instead leaning against it.

“I always wanted to see the ocean, be by the coast, just didn’t expect to be out this far.” He made himself chuckle, a smile tried to creep onto the Witchers face. “Now, my question.” He folded his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here, Geralt?”

“Ciri is nearly of age, I’m trying to get her closer to Cintra.” Jaskiers eyes studied him.

“Why across seas though?”

“It’s too dangerous to cross land, Nilfgaard takes more every day. The sea seemed like the safest option.”

“Not so much now, huh?” He asked playfully.

“Could have gone better.” Jaskier barked out a laugh. But his body then tensed, his smile dropping into a scowl.

“…You should get some sleep. It’s been a rough night…” He cast his eyes to the side.

“What about you?” Geralt questioned, taking a small step.

“Night watch. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re injur—”

“I’ll be fine, Geralt.” Jaskier snapped. Geralt hummed, backing away, gave a curt nod, and walked back into Jaskiers' cabin. Ciri was sound asleep, Lion tucked to her chest, not twitches indicating nightmares.

He got some sleep, an hour later, watching the carved constellations. He swore he saw them glow just before his eyes slipped shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii, sorry I've not updated in months, Started college and its mental illness innit?  
> Also I changed the plot quite a bit, it's now like a Sinbad story so, have fun with that  
> And I'm sorry for the characters being very OOC, I'm trying :(

Geralt was glad he woke up before the rowdy crew did.

He sat on the bed next to the sleeping girl, looking around the trashed room. A soft breeze drifted through the smashed windows, fluttering the scraps of ripped art and maps. He could see one of the bookshelves at the side of the room had toppled over, smashed bottles and tossed books scattered along the floor, joined with wood and glass. He looked up to the constellations carved into the ceiling, and noticed small flecks of blue paint in the carvings. There were many that Geralt didn’t recognise, which left a pit in his stomach. The idea that Jaskier could’ve told him what they were, but he just never listened to him enough, gnawed away at him.

He was awake for around 40 minutes before he got out of the bed. He treaded carefully around the glass, towards the fallen bookshelf. He gripped on end, and pushed it until it stood against the wall again. He then saw more carvings, small shells and stars, the same flecks of worn blue paints in the wood. He traced them with his thumb lightly, then shook his head, and shifted his gaze to the discarded objects.

As he was picking up the last of the books, the cabins door creaked open. When he looked up, a young boy, the one who played the lute the previous night, poked his head around the door. As his eyes landed on the Witcher, he squeaked and ran away from the door, not even closing it. Geralt stared, blinked for a moment, and furrowed his brows, gently placing the books back. 

He heard the crew wake up, because the shouting started immediately. Ciri stirred awake, rubbing at her eyes.

“Sleep well?” He asked, his voice a bit croaky.

“Could have been better,” She was interrupted by a yawn. And then a knock at the door. The same boy as before peaks his head out, eyes filled with fear.

“C-C-C-Captain Jaskier wants to see you…” He then quickly ran off. Geralt gave Ciri one last look, before leaving the cabin.

“G’ Mornin’ Witcher!” Geralt looked above the Cabin to Borin standing proudly at the helm. “’Ope you and t’e lassie had a good nigh’ sleep!” Geralt just hummed, and then looked around for the Captain, but couldn’t see him, but he could hear his heart beat. His was always different, he didn’t know how it was, but no matter how big the crowd there were in he could pick it out.

“Borin!” He heard Jaskier roar. He then saw the man hauling himself over the railing of the ship, dagger in hand. He sat himself of the banister, and swiped droplets of sweat from his forehead, before continuing. “I’ve told you, you are not to be at the helm!” He swung himself over onto the deck, marching his way up the steps.

“Ah, weren’ more than a slip o’ t’e mind cap’in!” He took his hat off, holding it to his chest and pouted.

“Next time it slips your mind you’ll be slipping overboard.” Jaskier snipped, shooing the man away from the wheel.

“Cap’in it can’t be so—”

“Borin,” Jaskier hunch his shoulders, and took a deep breath. “You’re foolish saving is the reason there is a minimum of twenty men dead in the sea by sun rise because you are a cheap man who is too reckless for anyone’s good!” Jaskier was panting now, hands gripping tightly at the handles. “So, would you kindly respect my wishes in wanting to keep thirty-four people alive?” Borin didn’t say a word, just quietly walking down the steps, leant against the quarter deck and took out a pipe and lit it.

Geralt twitched his fingers, looking up at the still furious captain. He then made the decision to confront him.

“Are… You alright?” He asked quietly, almost wincing at the awkwardness in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” He stood straight, pushing his hair back. “Sorry about that, it’s just that was his _fifteenth_ Ship. Bloody fool, always taking merchant ships…” He let out a relaxing breath, tugged at his lapels, and finally looked at Geralt. The Witcher saw the deep bags under his eyes, not very well disguised by kohl. “Anyway, I just wanted to inform you that, we can’t make for Cintra, straight away I’m afraid.” He clasped his hands together, Geralt let out a deep hum. “We took a harsher blow than I thought from the explosion, we won’t be able to make it to Cintra in this condition. Also we need more supplies for the extended crew, I have some things to sell as well…” Jaskier trailed off, speaking more to himself than the Witcher.

“That’s fine…”

“Are you quite sure? We should make port before noon. And I may need you to come with me?” He asked with a wince. “My crew is strong, but we have so many supplies needed that I fear we won’t be able to get it all in good time. My craftsmen have opted to spend the day repairing once we dock, but we’ll be there for at least a day before we may set sail again. And as for Ciri, she may stay here, I can have Winnie protect her, don’t worry I trust that woman with my life.” He gave the man a reassuring smile. “That is the plan, unless you object?” Geralt thought for a moment.

“Are you sure that Winnie will protect her?” He eyed the captain.

“If it wasn’t for that woman I can assure you the majority of my crew would be dead. And if any harm came to Ciri from her hand I give you permission to kill me in her honour.” Geralt ground his teeth, and then subtly nodded.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Thank you, Geralt.” He smiled, almost sweetly. His eyes trailed off to the side, and saw the small silhouette of a boy hiding behind the mast, and sighed.

“Is he… Causing you trouble?” Geralt asked, noticing the boy as well.

“No, no… it’s just Quinn. Since the first time I met him on Borins’ ship, he’s fancied me.”

“Not into men?”

“I’m not into _boys_. He’s half my age, just feels weird.” He shrugged. “Besides, the ocean is not place to get involved in romance.”

“What abou—”

A sudden yell interrupted him.

“Where is she?! Where’s the brat?!” A man came charging out of the bow of the ship, looking around violently, eyes blazing in rage and his cutlass swinging around drunkenly. The crew on deck stood readily around him. “Where’s t’e witch?!”

Jaskier hurried his way down the steps, cutlass in hand.

“Jarek! Calm down!” Jaskier called out.

“Where’s that bitch?!” Geralt heard from below him, the captain doors creaking open, and suddenly the man was locked on Ciris’ head peaking around the door. “YOU!” He roared, charging straight for the scared girl. Geralt leapt over the banister, landing in front of her, guarding her with his body. Jarek didn’t slow down at the sight of him, if anything he sped up. Suddenly Jaskier was now guarding the Witcher, his cutlass lifted just in time to act as a shield from the other mans’ blade.

“Jarek! Back the _fuck_ off!”

“That bitch and Witcher scum are the reason we’re stuck in this mess! If it weren’t for them _everyone_ would be alive!”

“If you have anyone to blame, blame the son of a bitch Captain who purposely targets himself and hands himself a weak crew!” Jaskier hissed at the man. Geralt, still protecting the door way, took one glance at the other Captain. Still leaning against the quarter deck, smoking. But he quickly looked panicked once his eyes matched with Geralts’.

Jarek was still bracing himself against Jaskiers’ cutlass, his snarl geared towards the door.

“Jarek, I have sworn to protect you, do not let me go back on my vow.” Jarek now looked into Jaskiers’ eyes, and sighed. He lowered his cutlass, and hung his head.

“Sorry Cap’in.”

“I cannot accept that without a punishment. Cookie?” The large man walked his way over, glowering at the other man. “See that he is given a worthy punishment.” Cookie grabbed Jarek by his shoulder, and dragged him back to the ships’ bow. The captain sighed, rubbing at his temples and turned back to Geralt.

“I’m so sorry Geralt, my crew is never like this. Is she going to be alright?” Geralt looked back at the door, and sucked on his teeth.

“She should be.”

“May I see her?” Jaskier looked at him with hopeful eyes, but held no unwanted urgency.

“Maybe… not at the moment. Give her some time.” He felt exposed under those piercing blue eyes, as is he was looking directly at his heart.

“I understand.” Jaskier hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, but turned and walked away. Geralt watched him for a moment, to then turn and softly knock on the cabins’ doors.

“Ciri? It’s me, may I come in?”

There was quiet for a moment, worry burning in the pit of Geralts’ stomach. Then there was a small click, and Ciris’ green eyes peeking out from the crack of the door.

“Is he gone?”

“Yes, he’s gone. Jaskier is seeing to him.” Ciri creaked the door open enough for Geralt to slide through.

“How long until we get to Cintra?” She looked up with hopeful eyes, her arms crossed over her chest.

“We have to make port for at least a day I’m afraid.” Ciri groaned, arms tightening around her. “Jaskier says that we took a harsher blow than we thought, so we have to stay somewhere until it’s fixed.” Ciri nodded understandingly.

“And how long after that?”

“I’m not sure.”

They made port by around 11pm, a small trading dock. It was busy but not as busy as the previous dock. There were only two other ships, and by the looks of them they were also pirates.

“Are you going to be alright?” Geralt asked Ciri, whom was sat on the bed holding onto her lion.

“Yes, I’ll be fine Geralt!” She whined, flopping back on Jaskiers’ bed. “Go on out! I’ve got Winnie with me!” She looked past the Witcher to the woman leaning near the doorway. Geralt sucked at his teeth again, and nodded. He left the cabin with a nod to Winnie, and was met with Jaskier just a few feet from the door.

“Is she alright?” Geralt nodded.

“What do we need to get?” Jaskier pulled out a parchment of paper.

“Mainly just wood and food, though I have some things to sell for some extra coins. And if needed I will be preforming tonight. If that does happen you’re welcome to return to the ship.” He offered, tucking the paper back in his coat. Geralt nodded. Jaskier then clapped to get everyones’ attention.

“Everyone! I and some other will now be heading off, Cookie is in charge for all you new comers. Right, Geralt, An Dung, Eryk, Leon, Oskar and Karolina, you’re coming with me. Everyone else stay on board, and stick to your tasks, I will have no slacking just because I’m gone.” He then snapped his fingers, and a ramp was placed down onto the dock. “Move it!”

Three men and two women scrambled from their posts to the ramp, Geralt stalking behind them. Cookie waited at the ramp for Jaskier, the captain kissed his cheek, holding his hands and saying. “Don’t worry I’ll be fine, keep an eye on Borin, don’t let him near the helm.” Cookie nodded, rubbing the backs on his hands before letting him leave off the ramp as well.

“Right, everyone you will be off collecting the supplies, I’ll join you in a moment, just have to visit an old friend.” He clapped his hands together with a smile, and shooed them off.

From what Jaskier said of his crew, Geralt expected them to be friendlier towards him than what they were.

None of them stood near him, avoiding him like he was diseased. The only time they’d even look or come near him was to hand him the heavier loads. They were walking through drab streets of stolen goods. Ranging from jewellery and clothing to animals and monster parts. Everyone was the same as the other five, but more hostile. Some sneered, others pointed a knife at him with a snarl.

They were stood by a carpenters’ stall, Eryk trying to bargain with the man for a lower price than what he was giving. Eryk eventually gave up, grumbling as Geralt held his arms out for them to pile the planks of wood. Then someone threw a stone at Geralts’ head. He sighed, his shoulders’ drooping in annoyance.

“Hey!” Geralt ignored the gruff and very much intoxicated voice. “Oi, mutant fucker!” Another stone was chucked at his head. “Hey, I’m ta---”

“You can bloody well _fuck off_!” Geralt was surprised to look down and see An Dung sneering at the drunken man.

“Shut _it_ woman! What, you a Witcher fucker?” Geralt heard the man laughing, An Dungs’ fists trembling at her sides. Oskar next to her had his hand ready on his cutlass.

“You bastard, you shut your mouth right now or I’ll---”

“You won’t do shit!”

THUD

Geralt turned at the sudden noises, seeing a seething Jaskier crushing the mans’ head into a cobblestone wall, grinding it into the stone to the point there was blood spilling down the wall.

“You will leave me crew the hell alone before I have your heart served on a silver platter while it’s still _beating_.” He slammed his head again, before letting him go and strutting his way other to his crew.

“Everyone alright?” He asked, taking out a handkerchief and wiping the small amount of blood from his hands.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” An Dung answered with a smile, her fists now relaxed and shoulders dropped.

“You okay, Geralt?” He asked, concern evident in his eyes, which left Geralt feeling almost dirty. He hummed, turning his head away back to the carpenter.

“C-C-C-Captain Jaskier! What a pleasure! If I was aware this was your crew, I would’ve given you fifty percent off!” The man seemed nervous, rubbing his fingers together with a smile. Jaskier rested his elbows onto the table, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Well, my good sir, it certainly isn’t too late to give us that, _generous_ , discount.” He smiled, scrunching up his nose, with his head rested on his hand.

“Ah yo-you see, sir, th-theh-they’ve already paid!” He let out a nervous chuckle. Jaskier chuckled back.

“If that was the case, what was the point in telling me?~” He began to tap his fingers on the counter. The carpenter began stumbling and stuttering, rubbing his hands together faster. “How much did you charge them?”

“A-A-A-A Hundred and f-f-th-fifty, captain…”

“Hmm…” He looks down at the pile of wood planks in Geralts’ arms, then turned back to him. “By your own prices, without my discount, we could’ve only payed seventy four…” He drawled, pouting at the carpenter. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” He stood up straight, smiling again. “How about you charge us the actual price, and add on that _wonderful_ little deal just for me?~” He smiling again, hands on his hips and one hand fiddling with the handle of his cutlass. The carpenter glanced at that hand and the glaring faces of Jaskiers’ crew, gulped, and nodded with a forced smile.

“O-Of course, sir…” He pushed back two of the gold purses with a trembling arm. Jaskier took it back with another smile.

“Thank you, _dearheart_.” He then clicked his fingers, and pointed onward for everyone to follow. Geralt followed, he wasn’t in much shock, Jaskier had got him better prices in the past, but it was the rapid heartbeat of the man that somewhat shocked him. The rest of the crew looked smug, An Dung elbowing him in the side with a laugh.

“Love it when ya do that, captain!” Jaskier laughed with her.

“Thank you, my dear!”

They did end up having to spend the night. Ciri said she was content with staying aboard with Winnie, as she’d be sleeping soon anyway. Geralt on the other hand had no choice, and was dragged along by Jaskier to another tavern.

It was crowded and had the overwhelming stench of salt and booze, filled with crooks and other pirates, bar maids that were raunchier than what Geralt was used to seeing. Jaskier had gotten them a large table in the back of the room, Geralt shutting himself off in the corner, cradling his tankard close to him.

Jaskier just got done retelling some tale, Geralt did try to listen this time, but the tavern was so loud with laughter it was becoming overwhelming.

“Jaskier!” Someone in the crowd yelled, Jaskier looked over his laughter still dying on his lips.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Sing us a song!” The same voice replied. Jaskier gave smug smiles to the overwhelming amount of people agreeing.

“Alright, alright,” He uncrossed his legs, clicked his fingers for Quinn to place his lute in his hands with a tremble. The Captain strut his was over to the small platform on the other side of the room. “Alright, what does everyone want to hear?” There was a short moment of mumbling.

“Sing us a love song!” Jaskier nodded, he tuned his lute for a moment until he was satisfied. The room became quiet as he began to play.

“ _It’s what my heart just yearns to say, in ways that can’t be said. It’s what my rotting bones will sing, when the rest of me is dead_.” Geralt half listened to the Captains’ voice, but he was distracted by three men sat not so far from him. One short, one average and one tall. The short and tall one had their hoods off, the small one was scrawny, nose jutting out from his face like a beak and a bald head. The taller one could be best described as looking like a thumb, his stumpy hands held in front of him on the table. The middle man was hard to see in the weak candle light, and with his hood obscuring most of his form.

“Did you get it?” The middle man asked, not lifting his head to either of his companions.

“Oh, we got it boss!” The scrawny one cheered, reaching into his cloak, but was stopped by the man, grabbing his wrist.

“Don’t get it out you idiot.” He snarled. “Bring it out on the ship. Is it the right one?”

“The Hippocampus Horn, right?”

_Hippocampu_ s? He’d heard of them, but from what Geralt could remember Hippocampi didn’t live anywhere near this continent.

The man groaned, but nodded.

“Then yes sir-re! We’ll be ready soon.” The man nodded, and then finally lifted his head, staring at the Captain, who had now moved onto a sea shanty and getting everyone involved. His jaw was squared with light stubble and small lips. A wide set nose, and dull blue eyes, his murky blond hair swished to one side.

“I promise, you will pay.” He then stood quickly, and stormed out the tavern, the other two stumbling after him.

Geralt watched them with a heavy glare, promising to himself to bring it up to Jaskier soon.

He struggled to sleep again. The crew and Jaskier had tumbled back drunkenly, mumbling songs that had been sung. Though, Jaskier was still somewhat sober, grabbing onto anyone who nearly walked off the pier.

He was staring up at the constellations again, trying to rack his mind for if Jaskier ever spoke about them and their stories. But not one memory surfaced, and guilt ate away at him. It became unbearable after a while, he slipped out of the bed, checking behind him to see if he had woken Ciri, which he thankfully hadn’t.

He creaked the door open to the deck, and slithered by. The deck was empty per usual, but he could hear the loud snores of the crew bellow. And also the soft strumming of a lute. The song this time was slow and mellow, but he heard more than just Jaskiers’ voice. He heard the soft but oh so very faint voice of a woman, the voice tender and sweet. He tried to listen to the words, but the rowdy taverns over powered his voice.

“…Jaskier?” He heard the clumsy strum of lute strings, a shuffled and the Jaskiers’ head popped over the steering wheel.

“Hello, Geralt.” He was hurriedly stuffing something into his pocket. “Can’t sleep again?” He nodded at him. “Are you opposed to me talking you to sleep?” He shook his head this time. Jaskier smiled and shook his head back, walking down the steps to meet Geralt.

“Sorry about well,” He clapped his hands together as he reached the last step. “Forcing you, to come to the Tavern.” He leant against the ships banister. “I’m sure you probably would’ve preferred being on the ship.”

“Was nice to have ale again.” Geralt said nonchalantly. Jaskier chortled, and Geralt joined him leaning against the banister, but he looked out at the horizon. “Your um, crew wasn’t as kind as I thought you meant…”

“Oh erm… I told them, about what happened on the mountain…” Geralts’ heart sank. “It wasn’t on purpose I swear, I was drunk and it just… came out. You most of all should know how I am…” He fiddled with his fingers for a moment. “And they’re well, protective of me, is how I should put it.” Geralt nodded, sucking at his teeth. There was an awkward passage of silence.

“Geralt?”

“Hm?” Jaskier turned so he too faced the sea.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” He now looked at the Witcher. “What ever happened to Roach? You don’t part with her all, willy nilly.” He waved his hand in the air at the end.

“Nilfgaard killed her.” Jaskier gasped. “Few weeks ago now, we were being hunted and she took one too many hits. Couldn’t leave her like that.”

“So you…?” Jaskier held his fist to his lips. Geralt hummed with a nod. “Gods, I’m sorry.”

They fell into a saddened silence this time, until Geralt remembered the men from the Tavern.

“In, the Tavern. There were three men…” Jaskier looked at him with a quirked brow. “They, spoke of ‘The Hippocampus Horn’…”

He heard Jaskiers’ heart stop.

“Wha…What?” He could hear his heart racing now. “Did they say anything else?!” Jaskier was close to him now.

“One of them asked if he had ‘it’, and the right one being the horn.” It didn’t quell Jaskiers’ racing heart.

“No… No, no, no, no!” He began to pull at his hair. “How--, how did they?...” He began to pace behind Geralt.

“Jaskier?”

“Fuck, fuck… FUCK!” Despite the street light in front of Jaskier, Geralt swore he saw a glow emitting from him, and his amulet vibrated like a mouse’s heartbeat.

Suddenly Cookie and Winnie burst out from the hull, and raced towards their Captain.

“Jaskier you have to calm down!” Winnie cried. Geralt was sure of the glowing now, a soft orange hue radiating onto Cookies’ bare skin and Winnies’ shirt. He was about to reach out to his former bard before Cookie quickly snatched him away and dragged him down into the hull.

He then noticed the sea around them had begun to toss and turn, splashing up onto the pier. Geralt quietly followed them down into the hull, the rocking of the ship getting harsher. Jaskier was pulled into a room near the end of the narrow corridor, the door slamming shut. Geralt pressed his ear against the wood.

“Jaskier what happened? Did he do something again?” Geralts’ guilt came crashing back. “No? Then please tell us what happened.” There was a minimal pause.

“Someone is after the Hippocampus horn.” He heard the other two gasp.

“But… How?”

“I don’t know but we only have a matter of time until they start finding the pieces, and if we’re not fast enough we’re all fucking dead!” The Ship took a violent hit from the waves.

“What do we do?” Cookie asked.

“…I’m going to have to post pone Geralt and Ciri getting to Cintra. This is more than just the fate of the continent.” Geralt was becoming scared now. There was silence, and the sea began to calm.

“Come here.” It was Cookie again.

“I know what we have to do is big but—”

“We’ll fight for you until the very end.” Winnie stated.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Nothing else was said, Geralt retreated back to the deck and into the captains’ quarters.

The next morning, Geralt woke to everyone already up and about. The crew scrambling across the deck.

“Geralt?” He looked to see Jaskier hanging off the rigging, golden telescope in hand. He jumped down and sped walked to him. “I am very sorry but there’s been a slight change of plan.” He grabbed his elbow and dragged him back into the Captains’ quarters to the desk. He shoved everything onto the bed, exposing a map burnt into the wood. He then wandered to his bookshelf, pulling out an assortment of books and scrolls, and threw them down onto the desk.

“The Hippocampus Horn is a legendary thing, and most thought it just to be stories.” He flickered to a page in one of his books, showing a sketch of a unicorn like horn, but the edges spiked out like coral. “This,” he said, placing onto the desk. “Can summon the Kraken.”

Geralt stared at him, hoping for some stupid punchline. But none came, instead Jaskier unfurled a scroll and placed it down. The giant squid had multiple eyes, pointing in all directions, 16 tentacles instead of 8, its leathery skin a cold murky blue, black spots and rings spattered on its body.

“The horn isn’t found though, its’ made.” He placed down another scroll. It showed four objects, a multi-coloured pearl, a purple seaweed like plant, a human heart, and curved dagger. Jaskier pointed to each one in order. “The gem of the sea, Salacias’ crown, the heart of the master of the sea, and Lamias’ taste of revenge.” Geralt stared down at the items until Jaskier spoke again. “If what those men in the tavern said was true, then the world may be in great danger. The Map for The Hippocampus Horn is almost impossible to obtain, and to get these items is of similar difficulty. Once one object is taken? A domino effect happens.”

Jaskier placed down more scrolls and books, displaying different sea monsters.

“Each one of these is released until their attacker is killed. It ends, with this one,” He pointed to an image of a titanic sized Shark, its flesh rotting off its bones. “Once this one is killed there is nothing stopping them from making the horn and summoning the Kraken.” Jaskier took a deep breath. “This doesn’t affect just the sea, it effects the whole continent and more.” He grasped Geralts’ hand.

“I’m sorry, but I need to do this. I can either drop you off at the next port, or you can join us.” He stared into his golden eyes. “But Geralt, I can’t let this happen.” Geralt stared at Jaskiers’ hand on his own, he felt too filthy for the man. He then looked to the maps and sketches.

“I’ll join you.” He almost felt Jaskiers’ tension leave himself.

“Thank you, so much.” Jaskiers’ smile made Geralts’ heart race.

He was about to speak until a monstrous force hit the bow of the ship, sending the two down on the ground and into the wall.

“I fear the first object has been found.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The guy at the end, I'm imagining William Moseley


End file.
